


Step lightly (and carry a celestial umbrella)

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels are monsters, Celestial Fusion, Dancing, M/M, There is nothing as satisfying as rolling Intimidation against a pompous jerk, asskicking, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale had not fused into Raphael in order to kick Gabriel’s ass. That had just been an unexpected bonus.





	Step lightly (and carry a celestial umbrella)

Crowley and Aziraphale had not fused into Raphael in order to kick Gabriel’s ass. That had just been an unexpected bonus.

In fact, they had not intended to fuse into Raphael at all, seeing as they had not known that such a thing was possible. They’d just been attempting to slow dance with each other in the bookshop.

It had started because Crowley had been browsing the section that was very much not labelled ‘vintage pornography’ and found a book that did not appear to belong there at all. It was by Milton.

He’d flopped down on the worn couch in the back, flipping through the pages as Aziraphale threw out a customer who had tried to buy a first edition copy of _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen. Crowley had flipped through the pages, pocketing his sunglasses.

After a while, he found a very interesting bit about angels leaving their bodies behind because they were in the way.

He read it several times over, just to be sure that he’d not misunderstood the text. In the end, he read every word on its own, linking them together like a sting of pearls until he was satisfied that he’d been right in the first place.

Then he put on a record to drown out his thoughts about what it would be like to smash his soul against Aziraphale’s soul. Kissing was new enough as it was. He hadn’t even managed to get Aziraphale’s waistcoat off yet.

But maybe they could take a step in that direction.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the record changed to something that was a bit slower than ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy.”

“Angel?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale closed up shop.

The late evening sun was bathing Aziraphale in golden light, caressing his form as he checked the locks and sipped his cocoa. He looked content in a way he had never truly been before the Armageddon’t. Crowley had caught him staring defiantly up to the sky too many times to count.

Crowley did not ask if Aziraphale had read the book that Milton had written. After all, the angel probably knew every book in here by heart.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, taking off his reading glasses.

Crowley waved the book in the air instead, watching delightedly as the angel turned scarlet. Aziraphale took the book and put it back in its place.

“I think we should try something,” Crowley managed, gesturing at the pile of romance novels he’d spent the day reading and commenting on temptation techniques. It was a part of his job to be up to date when it came to such things, after all.

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, looking at the way Crowley lay sprawled on his couch with an expression he usually reserved for truly decadent desserts.

“I think we should dance together,” Crowley said, waving a romance novel in the air. “You know, slowly.”

“You mean that we should slow dance?” Aziraphale asked. “Because I’m assuming that you do not want to do the gavotte with me at half-speed-“

“Yes,” Crowley said, pointing at the record player as if he was going to accuse it of heinous crimes. “That’s right. Slow dancing. For…work reasons.”

“Work reasons,” Aziraphale repeated. “So, you are saying that you want to try to tempt me to dance with you?”

“Right,” Crowley said. “That’s it. Definitely.”

“And it has nothing to do with the Milton you’ve been reading,” Aziraphale said. “Or the romance novels.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Crowley said. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t been curious.”

“About how it feels to merge our essences?” Aziraphale asked, fanning his face in the manner of a very polite young lady at a ball during the Napoleonic Wars.

“Mmm,” Crowley said as Aziraphale sat down next to him in a manner that suggested that his knees were rather wobbly. “Now that we know that we won’t explode.”

They kissed for a long while, content in the knowledge that if they were going to be in trouble, they might as well jump headfirst. Crowley’s hands found their way into Aziraphale’s curls and Aziraphale was looking at him as if he was one step away from ripping his waistcoat open.

Outside, the sun sank and the city was blanketed in as much darkness as it could handle.

Crowley stood up eventually, stretching farther than any human being technically could and took off his glasses, putting them on a nearby shelf. Aziraphale fixed his bow tie and pulled on his own waistcoat while making fussing noises.

The music wafted through the air. It was an old and familiar record, all strings.

It was Aziraphale who pulled him close until their bodies were pressed against each other. It was Aziraphale who lead, because of course it was.

They did not step on each other’s toes as much as Crowley had thought they would, but they did check on each other several times, nodding and maintaining eye contact and making reassuring noises.

And after they had spun around and dipped each other a few times just for the sheer fun of it, Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s soft middle. There was something delicious about getting so close to the angel without having to turn into a snake.

They swayed together; eyes closed as a deep silence settled as the record finished. Their breathing evened out and their muscles untensed as they danced. Neither of them could help smiling, too enraptured by what was going on to look away from the other one.

At some point, their mortal bodies slumped to the ground, unnoticed.

Their essences fluttered closer with each step with the tenderness of dew rising at dawn from the rose garden. They waltzed, footstep following a footstep and never truly parting. Crowley would step back, knowing that Aziraphale would follow, even if it would take him thousands of years. And Aziraphale would take a step towards Crowley, which he would have considered to be a surefire way to Fall just a few months ago. But now there was utter surrender to each other in their every movement.

The flashes of raw love emanating from them both was causing cupboards in every flat in the city to be filled with boxes of high-quality chocolates and wine and angel cake. Cars all over cleaned themselves up and houseplants grew at a pace hitherto unknown.

It was not a matter of melting together. Instead they spun together in such perfect sync that they fused, becoming one person in a flash of light.

The Archangel Raphael stood in the bookshop, glowing with heavenly light and a blinding grin on their face and a breathless laugh on their lips.

They looked at their reflection in a dusty mirror as they breathed in and out. It had been a long, long time.

Not that they’d known that they’d been gone.

After a while, they headed outside, picking up Aziraphale’s bag on their way. It had an old pack of cigarettes stuffed behind a short-story collection. Just before locking up, they grabbed a vintage cream umbrella from its stand, looking up at the dark sky.

It was a refreshing walk, seeing that Raphael walked like they were on their way to assassinate the Devil himself. Cars swerved, cats launched themselves up trees and birds took flight as they sauntered towards the local park. They wove through the dark, the streetlights lighting up as they walked past.

All in all, they had about fifteen minutes of peace before there they sensed another angel standing beside them on the otherwise deserted sidewalk.

“Gabriel,” Raphael said.

“So, we haven’t seen you in a while,” Gabriel said, with a bright smile that did nothing to hide how taken aback he was. They could see him take in the fact that they looked like a wealthy widow from an Agatha Christie novel: broad brimmed hat, tailored suit with an impeccably tied white cravat, snakeskin boots and black lipstick.

Raphael was silent, adjusting the silver angel pin on the lapel of their suit jacket. They made no attempt to hide their true nature, which lay just below the surface. Holy fire and a carpet of endless eyes. And then the wings, reaching to the sky.

“Have you been Downstairs?” Gabriel asked, rocking on his heels. “We assumed that since we couldn’t sense you that you must be-“

“No,” Raphael stated.

“Upstairs, then?” Gabriel asked, eyeing their bookbag as if he was afraid to look into their eyes despite the fact that they were hidden behind huge sunglasses. “With, um, with the Boss?”

Raphael kept their grip on the cream umbrella tight, stamping down the urge to whack him over the head with it. It was not working. Instead they grinned, something that appeared to unnerve Gabriel to the point where he took a step back.

After all, angels were soldiers. They wanted to Fight.

“I have been Working, Archangel Gabriel,” they said. “And Yourself?”

“Me?” Gabriel asked. “I have been in Heaven.”

“Have you not been performing miracles for our Lord?” Raphael asked, lowering their sunglasses and raising an eyebrow. “Spreading joy and good feeling and lessening pain?”

“Well-“ Gabriel began with a self-conscious huff. “That is what Aziraphale is for-“

“One angel to do the work of all the angels of Heaven?” Raphael asked, placing a hand over their heart. “How diligent he must be. I think we have not met in some time. He does sound very…dashing.”

“I would not say so,” Gabriel said with a dismissive gesture. “Soft around the middle, if you’d ask me. Not handsome at all.”

“And you would be Wrong,” Raphael said, raising their eyes to the sky. “Do excuse me. I must do my Duty. Messages to deliver, miracles to be made, you understand.”

“Indeed,” Gabriel said.

Raphael slung their worn leather bookbag over their shoulder, manicured fingers bony white as they gripped the umbrella. They thought of the nearest hospital and how many they could heal in one go, already imagining broken bones healing, wounds closing and hospital bills being paid by a mysterious donor. They could walk right in and no one would stop them-

“If you do see Aziraphale-“ Gabriel interrupted them with a strange side-eye. “Do you think you could…”

“Yes?” Raphael asked, giving the impression that they were late for a meeting with their five lovers and had to walk their fifteen sausage dogs.

“Do you think that smiting him would work?” Gabriel asked, looking at her like a schoolboy bully might when passing a lewd note. “We tried to get rid of him with hellfire, but no dice-“

“Why would you wish to smite another Angel of the Lord?” Raphael asked.

“He averted the Apocalypse with that demon Crawly,” Gabriel said. “Surely, some punishment is fitting for such a betrayal.”

“Can you imagine how angry the Lord would be?” Raphael wondered out loud. “If one would try to do such a thing to an Angel that has been doing his Duty for as long as Aziraphale?”

“I-“ Gabriel stammered.

“You tried to burn another angel alive?” Raphael asked. “Is this some attempt to get some fighting done before the End Times?”

“What?” Gabriel said. “Well, perhaps that would be sensible…”

“You do not to the Work,” Raphael said. “And then you attempt to potentially go against the Plan?”

Gabriel’s mouth opened and closed.

“I think I might have contact Upstairs-“ he began.

“How come?” Raphael asked, making sure to look as baffled as possible. And then they went for the kill.

“Do you want to fight God, Gabriel?” Raphael asked, watching as Gabriel flapped his arms and shook his head violently. “Do you think God wants to fight you?”

In his eyes, Raphael could see the bottomless terror of his wings burning and his halo cracking as he Fell.

“Perhaps not,” Raphael said with a shrug. “Who knows.”

“Ah,” Gabriel breathed.

“But I would,” Raphael said, raising their umbrella. “I have no problem with fighting you.”

The umbrella made a sound like a very powerful car engine flying through the air in the middle of a lightning storm. The snake eyes on the handle glowed as they whacked Gabriel over the head with the umbrella.

The blow itself had barely any effect on the human body, only leaving it a bit dazed. But to the celestial being that was Gabriel, it felt like being repeatedly dunked into some glacier-sprinkled patch of the ocean after a thousand lifetimes of bathing in the warm summer air.

Gabriel was a crumpled heap on the ground for a few long moments as Raphael hummed a song older than the sky itself, cracking it like an eggshell. The flames of his true form had dimmed, many eyes were closed and bloodshot.

“God be with you, Gabriel,” they said, picking him up with the ease of a professional angel.

Then they drop-kicked Gabriel Upstairs, his human body disappearing in mid-air.

Raphael kept their eyes on the sky for a while before continuing their walk, which included several stops at various hospitals and one grocery store where they bought an orange and proceeded to eat it with the skin, an event that horrified onlookers. That did not stop Raphael from later getting themselves a pineapple and eating it in much the same way. The crunch of the spiky bits was not much of an obstacle against their sharp teeth and the juice miraculously never splattered on their immaculate suit.

They then found themselves wandering back to the bookshop, where they became a very surprised Crowley and a very pleased Aziraphale. Crowley grinned at Aziraphale as they both got up and started laughing.

“Same again, some day?” Aziraphale managed as Crowley leaned on him, hissing softly though his teeth.

“Yeah,” Crowley said. “That was one hell of a ride, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale said, looking at the sun rise through the window.

“Let me tempt you to some breakfast,” Crowley suggested. “Something that is not fruit.”

They linked hands as they left the store, the door locking itself behind them and the Bentley purring in the street.


End file.
